


Infernal Fears

by Mossyrock



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Faces His Fears, Crowley is a Actually a Sweetheart, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Infernal Fire is Scary, M/M, New Relationship, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: Aziraphale likes fire - the warmth, the comfort and the smell. But he is, quite rightly, afraid of the infernal type. Crowley helps him face his fears.For my Ineffable Husbands bingo prompt - Infernal Fire.





	Infernal Fears

Aziraphale liked fire. He loved curling up with a good book in front of a fireplace, feeling the warmth enveloping him, watching the flames dance and smelling the wood smoke. And the different smokes – cedar, pine, oak and all the rest – gave off such beautiful and distinct fragrances. It was instantly reminiscent of one of his favourite times of year –Winter and Christmas, where love seemed to be in the air and people were far more generous, giving smiles and happiness freely. He loved feeling the warmth inside, while watching as people played outside in the falling snow with childlike joy, no matter their age. It felt divine.

And he had to admit his flaming sword had been rather amazing, lit up with God's light. He’d never really wanted it and certainly wouldn’t have used it to hurt anyone, but having a flaming sword had made him feel powerful. He still wasn’t entirely sure why they’d trusted him with it, if he was being honest.

But there was one type of fire Aziraphale didn’t like. Infernal fire. Just thinking about it made him tense with fear.

Once, Crowley had used infernal fire near Aziraphale and he’d nearly screamed in terror, even though he knew, even then, that Crowley would never hurt him.

There weren’t many things that could hurt a celestial being. Even less could really injure. And fewer still could destroy them completely – body and soul. But infernal fire was one of the few. Aziraphale didn’t feel it was unreasonable to be terrified of something that could kill you – no matter how blasé Crowley pretended to be around holy water.

Aziraphale knew Crowley liked fire too, even the infernal stuff. Except for when he’d been forced to walk into it in Aziraphale’s body. While it was just a body, Crowley had worried that the fire would destroy it. Aziraphale’d had such faith is Agnes’s prophecy that he hadn't really let himself consider the other outcomes, but it could’ve gone so wrong.

They could get new corporeal forms, if that had somehow been all that was destroyed. But after all they’d been through, he wasn’t sure that they’d have been allowed them by their respective head offices, considering they were the ones trying to destroy them. And he hadn’t much liked sharing a body, as nice as Madame Tracy was.

But they’d both survived. It was a miracle. Whose, he wasn’t sure, but he was thankful all the same.

Now, Aziraphale sat in front of the fire, warming himself, while a certain handsome serpent lounged on the rug in front of him. It was disgustingly domestic and Aziraphale loved it. His beloved was so cold blooded, especially in his snake form (though his human form ran cold too), that Aziraphale sometimes worried he might just slither right into the flames.

This thing between them was new. New in every sense of the word. About 2 days new. Which, for two eternal beings, was hardly a blink of an eye. They were still adjusting and trying to find how they fit together in this new way, but they were both more than ready to make it work. They loved each other. And finally they were allowed to admit it.

“What are you thinking about, angel?” Crowley asked. He’d transformed back into his human form while Aziraphale had lost himself in the flames.

“I’m just thinking about infernal fire and how close we came to no longer existing,” He answered. He hadn't meant it to sound so bleak, but it was true. 

“Why? We made it. We're safe.”

He knew Crowley thought he worried too much, but it was his nature. If anything, Aziraphale felt that Crowley didn’t worry nearly enough. It worried him, how little the demon worried.

“I know. But they will always know where we are. They could be watching us.” He glanced around, as if Gabriel might appear from the shadows. But he didn’t.

“I hope not. Not with that thing we did last night.” Crowley grinned, like the Cheshire Cat.

Aziraphale's face lit up a bright red at the memory and the very thought that the private moment might not have been so private after all.

“That’s not what I meant, darling,” He spluttered.

“Relax. I’m just teasing you, angel face.” He climbed onto the couch to rest beside Aziraphale, pressed to him from shoulder to hip. If this is what it took to get Crowley sitting up mostly straight, he should've done it centuries ago. He wished he’d been brave enough to do it millennia ago.

Sure, Crowley’s legs still splayed out messily in front of them, but Aziraphale liked it. It was so perfectly Crowley and meant that he could run his eyes along the incredibly long length of them to his hearts content.

“How did you become comfortable with being around holy water?” He asked, almost inaudibly.

“What makes you think I am?” Crowley was watching him, brow furrowed, head tilted.

“You asked for it. You wanted to have some and then you kept it, in your home.” 

“In a locked safe,” He argued, indignant.

“It was still a deadly weapon,” Aziraphale countered. 

“Why do Americans keep guns?”

“I don’t know. Is it one of yours?” Aziraphale hoped not. Guns were such evil things, in the wrong hands. He would hate to think they were Crowley's doing. 

“No. Humans came up with that themselves.” He sounded upset by that. Disgusted maybe? Aziraphale couldn’t quite tell, but it reassured him anyway.

“But it didn’t scare you?” He asked, taking one of Crowley’s hands in his. He linked their fingers tightly. It felt so warm and comfortable. So incredibly normal. 

“Of course it did. But I only used it when I needed it.”

It was the ‘_when I needed it_’ that worried Aziraphale. He had an inkling that their ideas of ‘needing it’ differed significantly.

“I gave you the water.” He’d debated for so long on whether it was the right thing to do or not. Even as he handed over his thermos – his favourite one at that – he hadn’t been sure it was wise.

“Even though you thought I was going to use it on myself.” It wasn't a question. 

“I trusted you.” He gave the hand in his a squeeze. He’d had to believe Crowley when he said it wasn’t going to be used on himself. It had been pure faith that had let him hand it over.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he simply stared at Aziraphale for a moment.

“An angel trusting a demon. It truly was the end of times.”

The wry tone hurt Aziraphale to hear. Crowley always used sarcasm and humour as a deflection. Aziraphale wished he wouldn’t, but he understood it. It just made him want to hug him and soothe his pain.

“You know I trust you though, don’t you, my dear?” He squeezed the hand in his. 

“Of course.” His eyes darted away as his lips twitched almost imperceptibly, giving away that he didn’t know and was secretly pleased to hear it.

It warmed Aziraphale more than a toasty fire ever could.

“Will you show me?” He asked, suddenly feeling brave.

“Show you?” Crowley looked utterly baffled. 

“Show me the fire?” Aziraphale elaborated.

“Angel,” He began, looking how Aziraphale thought he must have when the demon had first asked for the water, but Aziraphale interrupted him before he could say any more.

“I trust you,” He said it slowly and deliberately, looking into Crowley's eyes, begging him to believe it. 

Crowley hesitated. Aziraphale waited, not moving or breathing. When Crowley didn’t do anything else, Aziraphale opened his mouth to take back the suggestion.

“Ok,” Crowley agreed suddenly. 

He held the hand not being held captive by the angel out in front of them. Far enough out that Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to reach it if he tried. He paused, looked at Aziraphale one more time, then snapped his fingers. A tiny flame appeared on the tip of his index finger.

It was so bright. So beautiful. It was all yellows and oranges, glowing brighter than a terrestrial flame ever could. It was miraculous. 

“It’s gorgeous...” Aziraphale breathed.

Crowley turned his hand, brought it a little closer, so that Aziraphale could see it better. The flame changed, stretched and grew. It took a second for Aziraphale to see that a tiny figure had appeared. A little person, who sprouted wings and took off, flying around the room. It banished the shadows as it went, lighting the room, bit by bit.

Crowley snapped his fingers again and it disappeared, leaving the room feeling darker and colder than before.

“Thank you, Crowley,” He said, suddenly feeling choked up.

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley mumbled, looking away. Even now, he still pretended that he wasn’t kind, thoughtful, generous and loving.

“Alright, my love,” Aziraphale capitulated. He’d let him pretend to be tough and cold-hearted for now. But eventually he would convince him that he was safe here. Safe to be nice, if he wanted to be.

In the meantime, they could stay here, snuggled up together, watching the fire roar.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos fuel my motivation. 
> 
> This isn't much of a story. I just wanted an excuse for Crowley to indulge Aziraphale. As usual.


End file.
